She was sitting in the corner of her room, arms wrapped around her knees, wondering whether she was doing anything right anymore. Because Evan had called a couple of times after getting out of the hospital, and she hadn't returned his calls. She hadn't even been able to bring herself to read his texts. And maybe she was doing the wrong thing by trying to ignore him, but she didn't know what else to do. Something inside her was telling her—practically screaming at her—to just keep to herself, to leave everyone alone, because it seemed like each person she interacted with became screwed up. Kind of like that king in the ancient Greek legend who had the gold touch—Midas; everything he touched turned to gold. Well, Ada was sort of like him, except everything she touched became cursed. Evan might be angry with her now, she knew, but in the end, he'd be better off if she left him alone.

Ada knew Evan had his own issues. She had always sensed something odd about him. Of course, back at the start of the year, she'd been too concerned with herself and with Nate to take much notice of him. She'd hardly known Evan at all until Zach disappeared and they'd been forced into this nightmare together. But even when she barely knew him, she'd kind of picked up on some weird vibe. Something that gave her the gut feeling that Evan wasn't entirely together. After seeing him again several days ago, she knew she'd been right; Evan had issues of his own, and while she wasn't sure what they were, the fact was that he needed help too, and Ada knew that that was the absolute last thing she was able to offer him.

She was going to concentrate on helping herself, again. There was just too much in the past that she didn't want to face, and until she could find some safe level of sanity, she was going to be unable to think about other people. Maybe someday, when time had passed and made everything smooth over enough to where it all seemed like it never happened, she'd be able to really understand what had become of Zach. Really question her own role in the whole mess. But now it was pure survival. She needed to listen to Dr. Alder and try believing the woman's words and prescriptions. She needed to force her brain to stop making up all these images and panic attacks. There were people in the world with a lot worse mental problems than her, and they were able to live normal lives. So Ada had some small bit of confidence that somehow, eventually, this would all blow over and life would go back to a shallow state of normalcy.

Someone knocked on her bedroom door. Ada nearly jumped, it startled her so much. "Yeah?" she said quietly, after she'd calmed down.

The door of her bedroom creaked open slowly, revealing a head of messy blond hair and then the face of her brother. Ada was sitting on the floor across the room, and she saw him plainly, the wary expression on his face, as if he was a little afraid to come inside.

"Can I come in?" Owen looked at her questioningly.

Ada nodded, but her face showed that she was pretty confused. Owen hardly ever spoke to her, let alone entered her bedroom. Usually, he didn't want to be within twenty feet of her.

The boy stepped inside, then quietly closed the door behind him. He was dressed in several layers of shirts and pants with shot eighty-five strategically placed holes; his socked feet were barely visible. Owen didn't look much like his sister. While Ada's features were smaller and more pointed, Owen's face was round, like his mother's. His eyes were large and bright (when not dulled by the weed), and he had the sort of mouth that looked like it was always about to smile. Ada had used to love her brother's ability to charm everyone; he was about as mischievous as a devil, but no one could ever suspect him of anything. Unfortunately, Owen's appearance had made it so much easier to get away with the trouble he'd been into, lately.

Ada didn't even know what to say to her brother as he timidly sat on the edge of her bed. He looked very uncomfortable being in her room, and she felt the same. She couldn't remember the last time they'd had a normal conversation. One that didn't focus on his bad habits or her insanity.

"Mom's worried about you," Owen muttered uncertainly.

That was nothing new. Ada shrugged. Her mother was always saying she was worried, but Ada had never taken her seriously, because the woman never hung around long enough to really prove it.

Owen shifted his position a little. Looked pouty. "I'm serious," he added. "She wanted me to talk to you, and I didn't want to, you know, but she seemed pretty upset and . . . well, I care about mom, even if you don't."

Snorting, Ada looked away from her brother. She still had nothing to say.

"I'm serious, Ada," Owen insisted. "You have to . . . I mean, she doesn't hate you, even if you think she does. She isn't like me."

"You mean she doesn't hate me like you do?" Ada turned back to Owen. She narrowed her eyes at him. She knew her brother hated her, and it'd always hurt. But there was nothing she could do about it.

For a few moments, the two just stared at each other, and Owen didn't disagree with his sister. Neither spoke until Ada laughed bitterly and looked back to the wall, resting her head on her knees.

"Go away, Owen. You have it all wrong. I know she doesn't hate me. It has nothing to do with that."

The boy became angry. He didn't like being told he was wrong, especially by the sister he resented and was ashamed of. He stood up from the bed and glared at Ada, his voice raising as he said, "You know, it's a good thing you're seeing a therapist; maybe she'll be able to fix your messed-up head. The only thing wrong with this family is you, Ada. I'm fine—I don't care if you go crazy. But mom does care, even though I don't know why she should, and she's never going to be happy until you at least pretend to be ok. So why don't you just get over yourself and stop acting like a big massive baby up here in your room all the time?"

Something snapped in Ada. Giving her brother the angriest scowl she could muster, she got to her feet and stood face-to-face with him. Her voice seethed as she replied, "You have no idea, Owen. You think that mom's not happy because of me? Do you think she's ever going to be happy? Because she's not, and it has nothing to do with me. It's her own fault if she's miserable. I never said I hated her, and I never said I think she hates me. The real problem is that I know the truth about her—about how she screwed up her own life—and she doesn't like being reminded about it. If you have a problem with me, then fine, go off on me about it. But don't come up here pretending to bring messages from mom. Because I don't care about her."

Owen shoved her away. "That's right," he said. "You don't care about anyone but yourself. So if you're mad at mom for being selfish, you should be mad at yourself for the same reason. Think about someone else, for once. Go do something. Get out of your damn room and do something normal for once, like not get into a car crash. At least you seemed semi-normal when you went out with Nate; he at least was cool and . . . and normal. Just because you're psycho now doesn't mean to you have to shove it in mom's face." With that, he pushed past her and left the room, slamming the door behind him.

Ada was left standing in the middle of her room, her brother's words seeming to hover in the air like a bad smell. She wanted to cry, but she felt too drained. In a different world, she'd laugh and joke with her brother, sometimes get annoyed with him and remind him that he was only in seventh grade, but they'd be like normal siblings. Here, in this world, she did love him, terribly, and he knew that, but he felt too ashamed of her to acknowledge it. Owen didn't love her at all. He probably wished he had anyone else in the world for a sister. But he was stuck with her, and as much as Ada cared about him, she agreed that he would've been better off with some normal sister. One who didn't let herself get all walked over. One who wasn't seeing a therapist and who wasn't always locking herself up in her room having panic attacks.

She wished she could tell him how much she hated herself, too. But he wouldn't listen.

When it came to their mother, they'd been divided since their dad left. What neither wanted to admit was that it didn't matter which parent did what—what mattered was that the two of them stuck together. But they hadn't been able to do that, and now, they might as well not have been brother and sister at all.

Ada wished she could do something right for Owen, for once. That she could make him see that she wasn't as awful as he believed her to be (although she was having a pretty hard time even convincing herself of that). Go do something, he'd said. Get out of your damn room and do something normal, for once . . .

Normal. Ada didn't feel like she knew what that word meant, anymore. What was normal to her was the blood on the walls and the feeling that any second might lead her into hyperventilation. Normal meant the constant state of depression she was in and the occasional shining light of Dr. Alder breaking up the monotony of her bitterness. When she'd tried to go out, she'd only made her mother more upset by being in a car accident. Nothing seemed willing to go her way.

Then again, maybe Owen was right. Maybe she should do something with herself. If she did try to go out, she might at least alleviate some of her mother's worry and not have to endure the concerned glances the woman always gave her. And maybe she'd be able to take her mind off everything swirling in her brain, eating holes in it like acid.

But whatever she did, it couldn't be with Evan. He was too closely connected with Zach and the guilt and everything. But Nate had wanted her to come to his show anyway . . .

As much as Ada knew Owen was wrong about him—that Nate was anything but normal or cool—she was pleased to hear him encourage the exact feelings she'd been ashamedly trying to deny since he'd shown up at her house and threatened her into coming to his show.